


do you feel me, here?

by stardustupinlights



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dorks in Love, Drinking & Talking, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, If You Squint - Freeform, Jealousy, Kougami Kiyoshi's A+ Parenting Skills, Lost Love, M/M, Song: Cruel Summer (Taylor Swift), Songfic, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Terminal Illnesses, Time Skips, Way too many italics, a bunch of it is but not the ending, because it has the same themes, give it a listen as well, i hold myself responsible for this lmao, if u squint, it sets the miserable mood lmao, not yusaku or ryoken though, that doesn't make it better!!, there's mentions of blowjobs and handjobs but it's not descriptive, they're legal fellas, this could be a songfic for, wow there's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustupinlights/pseuds/stardustupinlights
Summary: Yusaku meets Ryoken at 16, falls in love at 16-and-a-half, and then, well. Never quite manages to fall out of love. Five years later, they meet again and, of course... emotional chaos ensues.
Relationships: Ai | Ignis & Fujiki Yuusaku, Fujiki Yuusaku/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	do you feel me, here?

**Author's Note:**

> [rises from coffin] It is I, awake once more.
> 
> So. Hm. Some of you that read my other work may have noticed me being silent, like, radio silent, and my only excuse is that, well, mental health is hard, and I needed to step back for the sake of it. Hopefully, I'll get better and back on track, but it's been tough. I also hope everyone's taking care and staying home in these scary times. This fic might have a few mistakes in it but Celepom did an amazing job with the 'in's and 'on's I mixed up so XD love her. She has a book out too now so please check her out if you want relatable ace spectrum content.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy what I can only call the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while. This is indeed a songfic for a k-pop song, except it's for an English cover I found online and wept about for a couple of days. I'll leave the link here because I'm... not sure how embed works here. Please consider giving a listen and supporting the singer and the girl group this song came from because it is a very beautiful rendition of a song that's also extremely good: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIJO4c_Ka7w&
> 
> The girl group is Red Velvet, btw. Go stan. They are taking over my life, slowly. RIP.

_“Yusaku-chan!” Ai calls, when he walks in, sitting up straighter and extending his arms for a hug. Yusaku approaches him quickly, relieved to find him awake and cheerful this time around. Not in pain. “You won’t believe what a nice surprise I had this morning. I met the prettiest nurse—”_

_“You say that about every person that walks into the room,” Yusaku points out, but there’s no fighting back his grin, or how his entire body becomes pudding when Ai gets his arms around him. He’s careful not to jostle him too much, but Ai is as enthusiastic as always, all but pulling him into the bed._

_“No, Yusaku-chan, I mean_ the prettiest _,” Ai sighs dreamily, patting Yusaku’s hair, and then allows him to break away just to get the chair in the corner of the room and sit beside the hospital bed. “You wouldn’t_ believe _his eyes.”_

_Yusaku hums, taking a close look at him. There are bags under his eyes that indicate restless sleeping, and he’s a little paler than usual, but other than that he seems… okay. Almost like there’s nothing wrong at all. The idea makes his heart tighten uncomfortably in his chest._

_“You know this isn’t a soap opera, right?” Yusaku says, and Ai’s response is an amused snort, a dismissing wave of his hand. “Don’t fall in love with the nurse.”_

_“Ridiculous,” Ai claims, shaking his head, but there’s something smug about the look in his eyes. It’s the kind of look that usually means trouble. “Besides, he’s more_ your _type anyways—”_

_Yusaku makes a low, negative sound from the back of his throat. “I don’t have a type—”_

_“—well, he’s everyone’s type, then.” Ai shifts, sighing and closing his eyes, a peaceful expression in his face. It’s a contrast to how miserable he looked last time, and Yusaku has to take a deep breath to keep himself from crying. “_ And _he’s in your age range. I would feel a little weird pursuing that myself, never mind the nurse-patient relationship.”_

_Yusaku’s eye roll only makes Ai grin wider. “Stop trying to play matchmaking.”_

_“Buuuuuut, Yusaku-chan,” Ai pouts at him, but there’s a smile under it, and the shine of mischief behind his eyes. “One day I’ll have to walk my little brother down the aisle and I’d rather be the one that picked out your lovely spouse.”_

_Something about the easiness with which Ai implies he’ll be there, if that ever happens, makes Yusaku tear up, but he just rubs it out of his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t think you picking someone for me is how it works.”_

_Ai hums. “It’s entertaining at least. You can only watch so many soaps before they get predictable. And, believe me, they rarely do, but love_ is _my profession, and there’s nothing better than it to feel like you’re finally living and breathing.”_

_Yusaku snorts, but doesn’t speak up right away, thinking his words over. The seconds stretch, as Ai settles back against the pillows and grabs a hold of Yusaku’s hand, reaching for the remote to put on one of the soaps and he— he kind of wants to cry, right now, really badly, because Ai could barely move last week and now he’s saying all this stuff… it’s terrible._

_“They could never replace you, though,” he mumbles, not looking at him, but Ai squeezes his hand and sighs. Yusaku doesn’t want to look, because he doesn’t want to see Ai sad, so he doesn’t, keeping his eyes trained on the cheap TV. He’s glad to realize they fixed the sound._

_“It’s not about replacing me, Yusaku-chan,” Ai says, his voice soft and serious, unlike his usual self, but it’s honest. “You know, if you don’t fall in love, that’s fine, because I haven’t, either— but I want you to know that love, if you want. I think it would make you happy. And if not, then, well, you still deserve to be loved in other ways.”_

_Yusaku takes a deep breath, focusing on the TV screen in order to keep tears at bay, but Ai’s hand in his hair and it’s_ hard _to not break down, because he’s absolutely terrified._

_Yusaku’s about to turn towards Ai, but the door opens before he can, and his eyes end up zeroing in present company, two girls and a boy, but his focus ends up on the boy and, oh—_

_Those_ are _very unbelievable eyes, indeed._

**_You always were... red flavor, baby_**

A breathy, surprised sigh. “Fujiki.”

Yusaku’s heart seems to stop, restart, and threatens to break out of his chest. It’s autumn, brown, gold and red leaves falling down from the trees around them like out of a movie scene, cold air hitting his cheeks and hinting at the coming bite of winter.

A shiver runs down his spine and it isn’t because of the weather, for once. Finding his voice proves difficult as he stares for longer than socially acceptable, barely resisting the urge to bring his hand up and rub his eyes as if he was just having a very lively hallucination.

He knows it’s not, though. His mind could never come up with this on it’s own: the way white hair curls lightly over his forehead, fluffier than he remembers; how there’s not a trace of telltale purple because of the closely shaved sides; the brightness of blue eyes so pale that Yusaku realizes he’s been misremembering their hue for years. There’s a red scarf around his neck, a cream-colored coat over his shoulders reaching down halfway to his knees, its buttons open and allowing Yusaku to get a glimpse of the white t-shirt underneath, the dark jeans that make the outfit complete.

Yusaku drinks in the sight like a drowning man. He was already swimming, but he’s eagerly taking mouthfuls of water, waiting for the waves to wash him away.

His voice comes out the tiniest bit strangled, his tone too warm, too intimate, too soft, too shocked. “Ryoken.”

There’s a beat of silence, Ryoken’s expression frozen in quiet consideration, before the shadow of a grin curls his lips upwards. It’s forced, a little bit, some tension bleeding inevitably into his shoulders, and Yusaku’s already cursing himself in every way he knows in his head.

“It’s good to see you,” Ryoken says, and Yusaku’s breath comes out in a huff. He was unconsciously holding it back, somehow still hoping this wasn’t real, but Ryoken doesn’t vanish, doesn’t move beyond the awkward shift of his posture. “I wasn’t aware you enrolled here.”

A part of Yusaku wants to call him a liar.

He’s been attending New Domino University for at least three years now. He dropped out of Den City’s community college barely seven months into it, and lucked out just enough to get a scholarship to this Ivy League, fancy, _expensive_ stuck-up school that just happened to have very good internship programs he was heavily interested in.

It’s impossible for students to not be aware of scholarship picks. Especially when your family owns about a third of the campus, as is Ryoken’s case. The students get announced on the university’s website homepage every semester. There are parties thrown by most of the higher-up students in hopes of finding another soul to add to their cliques. Yusaku went to every single one just to ensure the dean of students and the school board didn’t turn against him.

Kogami Kiyoshi is a very petty man, after all.

There’s no way Ryoken didn’t _know._ But it would perhaps be too rude to accuse him of lying, when this is legitimately the first time they’ve seen each other in about, oh, five years or so.

**_So red hot, made me melt like the summer sun, yeah_**

“It was very last minute,” is what comes out of Yusaku’s mouth, which is also a lie. Ryoken’s eyes flash, as if he knows he’s also lying, because this university doesn’t indulge in _last minute_ scholarship deals unless they’re giving them out to the kids of whatever high-society member paid to get their kid in. “It’s been three years already, though.”

Ryoken nods, his lips thinning, and Yusaku’s probably thinking a similar thing to what he is: they’re both lying, and they both know the other knows they’re lying, and they won’t stop. Something burns somewhere in Yusaku’s chest, and he has to take a deep breath, exhale slowly to avoid giving away how much this is affecting him.

He feels stifled in his coat and scarf, despite how thin both of them are, and how not twenty minutes ago he was cursing the cold. He’s sweating, and wonders if the flush he feels over his skin is visible, if Ryoken can tell he’s _melting_ from the inside.

It’s a distinctly familiar feeling, one he hasn’t felt in so long it’s threatening to pull him apart, like he brought summer over with him. Ryoken, in contrast, looks as _cool_ as always, a carefully constructed layer of ice over his gaze, and Yusaku resents it as if they were standing five years in the past, as if the hurt was still fresh.

It is.

**_At a candy shop, still dreaming, honey_ **

**_Forever lost in a summer I can’t forget, yet_**

_“—really, I’m trying to spoil_ you _but you’re impossible to buy sweets for.”_

_Yusaku side-eyes him, a smile tugging at his lips, and one of the employees right around the corner snorts, probably louder than they intended, as footsteps hurry away. He understands it, though, since they’ve been taking up space in this rather small shop for about an hour now, more fooling around than actual window-shopping or shopping in general._

_“That’s because I don’t like them,” Yusaku repeats, for what appears to be the thousandth time today, but Ryoken only rolls his eyes and leans in closer, their shoulders bumping. Yusaku’s heart jumps, and he has to run his tongue over his teeth in an effort to keep down his grin. Ryoken bumps his elbow against his arm, and Yusaku risks a look at him to see him smirking. His face flushes, and the sweet sound of Ryoken’s deep chuckle fills his ears. “Can’t we go?”_

_“No,” Ryoken turns away from him and heads towards the chocolate aisle, as he’s done at least five times already during the last hour. “I’ve made a decision on what to get you.”_

_“You mean what you’ll get for yourself under the excuse it’s for me,” Yusaku points out cheekily, and hands Ryoken the basket he’s been holding since they came into the shop. Ryoken’s only answer is another eye roll and an offended huff, but he takes the basket and starts picking up several chocolate brands, throwing them into it without a care. Yusaku avoids looking at the price tags, but he’s half-relieved to recognize most of them as familiar brands._

_“I’m only doing this because you wouldn’t allow me to get you anything else,” Ryoken practically strolls towards the cashier, flashes a rather charming yet apologetic smile to the girl behind the counter. “This’ll be all, please.”_

_Yusaku purposely stands closer than necessary to Ryoken, biting his bottom lip and pretending not to notice the way his eyes drift down to it, burning gaze making his face flush._

_“I don’t want anything else.”_

_“Bullshit,” Ryoken mumbles, just low enough that the girl only gives them a slight side eye before announcing the total to Ryoken. It’s definitely higher than Yusaku would ever spend on_ chocolate, _or any candy for that matter, but Ryoken just pays in cash and leads him out of the store, not without thanking her again. He only speaks again once they turn to make their way back to Yusaku’s apartment, just a couple blocks away, their hands brushing as they walk. “You need a new laptop, preferably yesterday.”_

_It’s said almost like he couldn’t hold it back, from behind clenched teeth, but Yusaku’s an expert at dealing with Ryoken when he’s difficult. His only answer is a shake of his head and a shrug. No words, because Ryoken is far smarter with them than him and might take them, make them his own, twist them without malice to unnecessarily try to convince Yusaku to accept his—and this is a hard thing to name, because Ryoken doesn’t feel pity for him, but it’s still jarring, his willingness to_ give _, to make Yusaku feel less worried about how he’s going to pay rent, or school, or medicine_.

_His silence clearly grates on Ryoken’s nerves, so it isn’t a surprise when he reaches into the shopping bag and pulls out a bitter chocolate bar, opens it and bites into it, taking out his silent frustration on it._

_It isn’t until they’re behind the locked door of Yusaku’s place that Ryoken pulls him close, presses his lips against his, kisses him so soft and deep that Yusaku open his mouth, allows the bitterness of dark chocolate to wash over his taste buds as Ryoken wraps him in his arms. It’s warm, too warm, summer heat still clinging to his skin, but Yusaku doesn’t mind it, thinks that he could probably stay like this… forever._

_“Did you like that one?” Ryoken asks, when Yusaku breaks away and he sees him licking his lips. His smile is cheeky, knowing, and his body is pressed way too close, in an unfamiliar yet exciting way._

_A grin tugs Yusaku’s lips upwards. “It’s perfect.”_

_And they both know he’s not talking about the chocolate._

**_As you sleep against my chest, I feel your heartbeat_ **

**_The only other sound is water to the shore_**

_“New Domino?”_

_Ryoken’s answering hum is just on the side of hesitant, his nod even more reluctant. “I don’t seem to have a choice in the matter.”_

_His voice rumbles over Yusaku’s skin, from deep within his chest where he’s pressing it to Yusaku’s side. There’s sand on this toes, under his clothes, in his hair, saltwater on his lips and sunlight over his skin, turning it pink, but that seems unimportant compared to the way Ryoken visibly swallows, how his heartbeat echoes against him, louder than it should be._

_“You want to go, though, don’t you?”_

_Ryoken hesitates again, and something in Yusaku sinks, like a rock to the bottom of the ocean. “Den City has good health programs as well—”_

_Yusaku shakes his head, swallowing, and wraps his arms tighter around Ryoken before reaching to press a kiss against his lips, delicate yet quick, that sinking feeling furthering with it._

_“They’re not New Domino,” Yusaku whispers, sighs, intends to continue, to mention how Den City is good for people like his father, all science and little life-saving, but Ryoken makes a sound, so low he almost misses it, and interrupts him._

_“I still have to take the entry exam.”_

_“Your father owns it, Ryoken,” Yusaku shakes his head and leans in again, allows Ryoken to deepen the kiss for a few seconds, and then breaks away, sits up straighter and reaches for his sandals, laying in a mess of sand over to his left side. “Your cousin is a sponsor for it. You’ll get in no matter what.”_

_Ryoken watches him with wide eyes that turn into a slight frown, his lips thinning. “I don’t want to get in through family.”_

_Yusaku spares him a look before standing up, sighing heavily. “It won’t be just that.”_

_Then, he turns back, towards the stairs that will lead him back to the house, just in time to see Kiyoshi Kogami coming into view at the top of them._

_Ryoken’s hurried movements to stand up feel a little like a knife is being held to his throat. “Father—”_

**_You still make me feel like I'm only 16_ **

**_And back then, I couldn't really love you more_**

It’s perhaps a month before Yusaku comes across Ryoken again.

He’s not really counting, because it wouldn’t do him any favors to do so, but he does ask around as subtly as he can to find out why he hasn’t run across him before in the last three years.

The answer is quite simple, really, and given to him by Sugisaki Miyu no less, who’s known for being on her third run through the university. This time, for a master’s degree in psychology. Before that, it was a Liberal Arts degree, and before that, she got a degree in marine biology. Rumors say she wants to go through each possible program at least once. Her family owns another third of the campus.

“Hm, Kogami-kun was actually away overseas on a special internship program for the last two years, and he was barely out of the classroom and the lab before that. You know how the university likes to brag about those programs and how hard they are to get into, so,” Sugisaki shrugs once, stepping around Yusaku to guide her yoga class into another position once her phone alarm blares that the time for the current one is over. He’s not exactly sure on what grounds she convinced the dean of students to open that club. “Are you a friend of his?”

Yusaku hesitates for perhaps too long, because Sugisaki side-eyes him, and a few of her students that are quite clearly straining to overhear their conversation also stare at him. It seems that the gossip mill might start racing into unknown territory if he gives a vague answer or just _leaves_ , so Yusaku shrugs at her.

“Knew him in high school. Was curious about how I missed him for three years.”

Sugisaki’s eyebrows wrinkle into a frown, but it melts as soon as it appears, a small, friendly grin taking over her lips. “Are you Fujiki Yusaku, then?”

His heart stops. There’s a pause. It beats again. “Yes.”

“Oh, he spoke a bunch about you. Haven’t been able to catch up with him since he’s been back, though, so I don’t know if that’s still the case,” Sugisaki pauses, looks at him deeply, and Yusaku’s skin flushes under her scrutiny. He feels extremely out of his depth, suddenly, so young, like he’s _back then_ , when he couldn’t even consider the thought that he wouldn’t know about Ryoken’s whereabouts for five years straight. Sugisaki is blissfully unaware of his internal panic, and keeps smiling. “It’s nice to meet you, Fujiki-kun.”

Yusaku thinks he answers something, but he isn’t quite sure, before turning away and leaving her behind to her strange life in which she’s able to coax someone higher up into letting her start a yoga club.

It dawns on him, slowly, how familiar this behavior is to him, and how alien it is at the same time. Asking around about Ryoken, flushing under the knowledge that he _talked_ about him at some point—it’s eerie, as if history is repeating, and he almost wishes, _almost,_ that he wouldn’t have dropped out of Den City’s community college, that he hadn’t send in an admission essay to the exam.

Vaguely, he wonders if destiny hates him, if he did something to anger fate, but is met with his answer when not an hour after that awful, awkward encounter, he pretty much _runs_ into Ryoken as he’s breezing out of the Robotics lab, extremely aware that his next class is across campus. He _hates_ electives.

He almost drops his laptop as they collide, because he was still trying to shove it in his bag when he was walking out, but he thankfully doesn’t and almost weeps as he kneels on the ground and holds it close, not bothering to look up at the person he’s stumbled into until it’s safely inside.

_‘Seriously,’_ he thinks, with all the bitterness he can gather, which isn’t _that_ much in the end, but also makes him frown. Ryoken blinks at him, his hands holding his weight against the floor and balancing him, and his expression is as surprised as Yusaku’s.

“Sorry,” Yusaku grunts out, stands up, doesn’t offer Ryoken a hand because he’s busy zipping his bag closed, but he doesn’t seem to mind it. He probably expected it, which is—it makes that sinking feeling from so long ago return, and Yusaku has to wonder when, exactly, he turned into a teenager again.

He stands up with the grace Yusaku’s somehow still used to, and they stare at each other for a few seconds, before Yusaku looks away and flings his backpack over his back, ready to _walk away._ He opens his mouth to say goodbye, or _‘fuck off’_ , he’s not entirely sure, but Ryoken beats him to it.

“Still the same laptop?”

Ryoken’s words turn his own into ashes in his mouth, heavy and sticking to his tongue, making him unable to formulate an answer. He shrugs a shoulder in response, and for some reason that makes Ryoken grin, slightly more honest than last time, but still obviously painful.

“And you’re doing alright with that?” He asks, and Yusaku wonders at which point Ryoken forgot how to read the room. As it is, half of the students around them give them a wide berth, and the other half stare in a way that’s too familiar to how it was in high school when they dared stand next to each other, when Ryoken picked him up.

It’s a thinly veiled question as well. _You’re doing alright with that?_ More like _are you still heartbroken? Are you doing fine without me? Are you still in love?_

Yusaku doesn’t bother to answer the questions, not even to himself. He’s too scared to address it, to _know_ , so he’ll lock it up to deal with in perhaps another five years. Or never. Whatever happens first.

He shrugs for a second time, and wonders if he should invest in paying someone to speak for him, but telepathy isn’t a thing and he’s broke anyways.

Something about his expression must have given something away, because Ryoken’s face shifts to a way-too-familiar frown, the one he used to wear when he thought Yusaku was being particularly stubborn, and the sight wretches something from him, makes him frown and glare back perhaps much too viciously, and that only deepens the darkness of Ryoken’s expression.

The ice wall is still there, though, but Yusaku isn’t going to bother trying to break it this time. He isn’t. _He isn’t._

“Fujiki—” He starts, but Yusaku’s already walking around him, ignoring the way his heart all but throbs in his chest when their shoulders brush briefly.

“I have to get to class.” He throws the words carelessly over his shoulder, and pretends that he doesn’t feel Ryoken’s eyes tracking him like a burn mark on the back of his head until he’s out of sight.

He breathes in, and out, and thinks, weakly: _I need a drink._

**_But why... why do I still remember,_ **

**_I wish we never grew apart, my lonely heart remembers_ **

Drinking, it turns out, isn’t a great idea.

Ryoken is at a table in the corner of the local student bar when Yusaku walks in. ‘Student bar’ is a loose term, really; it was more like it was the only bar for miles from campus and it was extremely overpriced because the owners _knew_ that their clientele would only be desperate college students, but suddenly the prices of beer are the least of his concern. The place is packed, because it’s a weekend, and Ryoken’s with a rather large group of people, including Sugisaki Miyu, but Yusaku’s eyes still find him as if he was a lighthouse and he a boat stranded at sea.

Takeru, whose arm is over his shoulders, as it tends to be, whistles lowly, and Yusaku shoots him a glare for it. “Is that him?”

Yusaku’s glare intensifies, but he doesn’t cower under it like Yusaku wants him to. Honestly, if he could have _five seconds_ of peace.

“He’s hot,” is Takeru’s conclusion, and then he’s dragging Yusaku to the bar, ordering them the cheapest strong beer they have, one for each of them. It’s entirely too much to start the night on, but Takeru winks at him, leaning in closer than necessary to whisper in his ear. “Tab’s on me tonight. Exes suck, don’t they?”

Yusaku’s skin heats and he shoots Takeru the meanest glare he has, but it’s probably weakened by how his shoulders dropped at the promise of not having to pay a penny for terrible beer and shots.

As such, he gets drunk way too fast, because he’s a fucking lightweight and probably always will be, and he’s hanging off Takeru’s shoulders entirely too soon for the hour. The barmaid winces with pity at him as Takeru laughs loud enough at him to alert the whole bar of their drunken disgrace, and actually offers them glasses of water on the house. Even the water is fucking expensive in this place, so Yusaku doesn’t hesitate to mumble a thanks and drinks his glass slowly, because he’s getting shots next.

He’s not done drinking his third beer when Takeru giggles again and leans in close, probably talking louder than he thinks he is, because Yusaku has to lean back in order to keep his ear from being abused by the tone. He’s far better at holding his liquor than Yusaku is, but he’s still a giggly, snuggly drunk, and it shows in the way he’s dragged his stool closer to Yusaku’s.

“Hey, hey. He’s staring at you,” his breath is pure alcohol but Yusaku barely notices it over his confusion, and his expression must be funny, because Takeru giggles again. “Your _ex._ The uh. What do they call him… he has a nickname, but. He’s _staring._ ”

Yusaku’s heart starts drumming without reserve. He feels too warm, so the cool air of the bar only brings out goosebumps over his skin, and he takes another drink of his bottle before even risking a look, trying to be subtle. He doesn’t achieve this, of course, because he’s drunk off his face, and Ryoken was staring at them anyways, so it is unavoidable that their eyes meet.

Ryoken looks sober. There’s a flush high over his cheeks, but that could very well be just a side-effect of drinking alcohol – fuck knows Yusaku’s gets red like a tomato – and his posture is too straight for someone that might be drunk enough to do something stupid, like approaching them.

Which is why Yusaku squints, trying to decide if he’s hallucinating or not, when Ryoken walks towards him without even letting his present company know that he’s abandoning them. The only thing that cements this as _‘actually happening’_ in Yusaku’s brain is how Takeru seems to choke on his beer, cough, and mumble out a ‘fuck, dude, he’s coming over.’

Yusaku considers this, almost as if time were going slower than normal, but his mind comes up blank, thoughts not properly processing. Fuck, he’s truly smashed.

Ryoken slides into the empty stool on the other side of Yusaku, says something his ears don’t catch over the sound of his heartbeat and something like waves crashing against a beach unearthed from his memory by how Ryoken, somehow, wildly, smells like seawater.

How uncanny.

Takeru giggles again and leaves, not saying a word, almost _strutting_ right to a group of people he seems to know—or at least Yusaku thinks so, but then again, he’s a snuggly drunk.

“Fujiki,” Ryoken calls, and Yusaku stares at him, blinking confusedly. In case it wasn’t obvious, Yusaku’s a confused drunk, his brain unable to truly process shit. He’s been told it makes him look like a lost puppy, which he doesn’t appreciate. “I wanted to—”

“I’m drunk,” Yusaku blurts out, taking another swing from his bottle. Ryoken stares at him, perfectly composed, and Yusaku grunts, frowning at him. “Fuck off.”

Ryoken’s eyebrows rise up behind his curly bangs, and it makes Yusaku stare at his hair, wondering what – or horribly enough, _who_ – convinced him to cut it like this. He kind of wants to know because the look is unfairly hot on him. He was already way too beautiful to be human; he never even knew that Ryoken’s hair curled when too short before straightening out a bit, and that somehow is _insulting._

“That’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me since we ran across each other,” Ryoken says, and Yusaku rolls his eyes, signaling for the barmaid to bring him another beer, but she’s clearly ignoring him. “It’s rather refreshing.”

Anger boils worryingly fast under his skin, and he finds himself answering despite a tiny, perhaps a bit more sober part of himself, telling him to ignore it. “You’re the one that lied first. Fuck off.”

Ryoken’s mouth does this funny twisty thing like he can’t decide whether to frown or laugh, and Yusaku finds himself staring at it until it’s over and Ryoken’s expression settles on a grim look, his lips pressing into a thin line and the shadow of a frown appearing over his eyebrows. He must frown a lot, Yusaku thinks, for that to be his body’s natural inclination.

“I didn’t mean to offend you with that.” Ryoken’s voice is careful, too careful, as if he’s dealing with a wild animal, and Yusaku almost snorts at the comparison. “I—”

“Next time you try to speak to someone you haven’t seen in years do try not to start off with a fucking lie,” Yusaku interrupts him, shaking his head. He almost feels detached from this, from his anger, because of the booze, but he can’t really bring himself to care, because he’s right.

Ryoken’s frown deepens and Yusaku absolutely hates how memories of himself smoothing those lines out rush to the forefront of his mind. He takes another swig of his bottle, finds it empty, tries to call the barmaid over again but _she’s ignoring him._ Yusaku wonders if he’s somehow reached the limit of drinks, remembers that’s not a thing outside of campus, and frowns harder. Where the fuck is Takeru, anyways? He’s feeling inclined to leave if he’s not going to be served more drinks.

“I was afraid you’d think of it as stalking,” Ryoken speaks up, gaining back his attention, and Yusaku rolls his eyes openly, scoffing. This seems to actually make him lose his patience, because his tone rises, the ice wall strengthens. “Sorry, we didn’t _exactly end up_ on the best terms, and I’m not the one who enrolled in the same university—”

“Oh, _fuck that_. You think I was following you? Are you that self-absorbed?” Ryoken shoots him a bewildered look, anger flashing in his eyes, but it’s not cold anger—it’s hot, burns Yusaku to his very core, and a part of him is absolutely terrified, but the rest of him is drunk as fuck, and wants to _see_ Ryoken, who’s always so fucking perfect, lose it a little bit. He knows he’ll regret this, and that he’s coming across perhaps as if he hates him when that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but those are issues for his future self to deal with. “I couldn’t afford my fucking rent, so I moved into an even smaller apartment, and enrolled into community college and left after six—no, seven months, because I either worked or went to class, and I decided to send that _ridiculous_ admission essay because what else did I have to lose, after you left?”

Yusaku’s breathing hard by the end of his tirade, his voice having gone a little higher in volume than he would ever allow himself, but no one seems to notice as the silence grows between them, no one pays any mind to their lovers’ quarrel—except for the barmaid, who reappears and _finally_ gives Yusaku more alcohol, this time in the form of a fruity drink that almost makes him choke because _it’s really strong,_ and also slides Ryoken an identical one.

He could kiss her, honestly.

Ryoken’s a little too shocked to react to the drink beyond immediately taking a long sip from it, and the silence holds as they both wind down from _that._ There’s something simmering under his skin, Yusaku can tell, his eyes far more open than they’ve been in a rather long time, even before he left.

“I—” Ryoken starts, pauses, starts again, does the same a couple more time and then takes a few long sips from his drink. He finds his words just in time for Yusaku’s anger to fizzle out a bit, but it’s still there, along with a dozen other feelings he doesn’t wish to address. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

It’s not the words he expects, but he finds he can, somewhat, relate to them. A sigh escapes him, and he takes a good gulp of his drink to gather more courage. Anger seemed to have led him to a little sobriety, which is not what he needs to have this conversation.

“I lied,” Yusaku admits, shrugging a shoulder while staring at the bar, at his drink, avoiding Ryoken’s eyes. “Not about university but I did—ask for you. Recently. You’re not crazy to think that I… look into you.”

Ryoken’s silences used to be very telling, but they aren’t anymore. Yusaku’s left grasping at straws to come up with what he might think of, but his mind is empty.

A deep sigh. “I’m sorry about accusing you of following me here. It mustn’t have been easy to get into university.”

“Your dad certainly didn’t make it so,” Yusaku snorts, and Ryoken winces visibly, but he can’t really feel bad about it. Kogami Kiyoshi is at least half of the reason why they’re like this, after all. “What do you want, Ryoken?”

The question slips from his lips without him even thinking it, but he finds that he doesn’t regret it. It’s probably the alcohol talking, but either way Yusaku can’t help but feel like, with Ryoken, he can only be honest or say nothing at all. Them lying to each other like that could almost be called a fluke, for they weren’t usually dishonest with each other before. Rarely ever. Not even on their last day.

Ryoken looks at him, his blue eyes feeling red, like laser points, like any time now he’s going to get shot. It certainly wouldn’t surprise him.

Yusaku’s wonders if his kisses are still half as sweet as the drink he’s having, hiding that potent, sharp alcohol that numbs his senses. A sugary death, but he finds that he can’t imagine it anymore.

Despite how young and small he feels— it’s not the same. It’s different, with the smallest drop of potential. Foolish hope. Mindless daydreaming.

It’s scarier and stronger than their relationship ever was.

**_You always were... red flavor, baby_ **

**_So red hot, made me melt like the summer sun, yeah_ **

**_At a candy shop, still dreaming, honey_ **

**_Forever lost in a summer I can’t forget, yet_**

_“You’re awful, truly,” Yusaku mumbles, blinking away sleep from his eyes, pressing his smile against Ryoken’s shoulder. The smell of breakfast fills the apartment and not for the first time he wonders if this is way too much, too soon. Yusaku feels lost in this already, barely three months into this, into something that feels like shoes far too big to fill, even with the two of them trying._

_“I’m awful?” Ryoken repeats, shaking his head and turning around to press his lips against his forehead, a mumbled ‘good morning’ making his skin tickle. “I made you an actual breakfast, not the shit you eat every morning, and_ I’m _awful?”_

_“The worst,” Yusaku nods in agreement, and Ryoken snorts, a sound that would usually be far too cheerful at this hour. “I can’t believe you’re an early riser.”_

_“Why? Do I give off the impression that I slack off, like you?”_

_Yusaku rolls his eyes at the innocent jab. “You’re already too much to be an early riser as well.”_

_“It’s the sea,” Ryoken winks at him, knowing Yusaku won’t take that as an actual response to his doubts, especially considering the man he lives with. “Sit down, will you? I’ll serve you.”_

_Yusaku stares at him and squeezes his arms around his waist, lightly, before pressing a kiss to the back of Ryoken’s neck. He has to go up on his tiptoes to reach, but the effect is the same either way: a little shiver, a chuckle, the vibration of Ryoken’s voice in the morning._

_It’s sweet._

**_I just wanna love with every single color_ **

**_Just to show you all the ways I've changed_**

“Oh, fuck, this is just insulting by now,” Yusaku says out loud, right at Ryoken’s face, and he’s met with a rather blinding smile and a chuckle that makes his whole body simultaneously relax and heat up. “Do fuck off.”

“It seems fate wants us to meet.” Ryoken’s eyes twinkle in a fashion that is extremely unfair. Stupid brilliant eyes.

Admittedly, they’re in a place where it wouldn’t be _that_ odd to meet, but Yusaku thought that he would be saved by… class distance, or something like that. It’s also been a while since that night at the bar, and he’s not looking forward to a repeat of that.

He was unexpectedly invited to Sugisaki Miyu’s family ball to fundraise for the university. It is co-hosted, alright, by Ryoken’s family, both sides of it, so he knew he would be there, but again—class distance. He’s only here because he’s one out of the few that were picked for scholarships three years ago that’s still going strong. Everyone else is here because they’re rich, or have enough of a reputation to be. His presence here is pure press fodder.

He’s alright with it because he was allowed to bring a plus one, and he brought over Takeru, because while he wasn’t high society he still saw quite a bit of stiff protocol in his life. So he knew that while Takeru rolled with it, he would roll with Takeru. Simple enough.

So why is Ryoken within his vicinity? Probably has to do with the speech he has to give, and with how Yusaku has to… be around. He knew nothing of this speech until about ten minutes ago, so. It was meant to be mildly humiliating. Speeches written by the school board always were, especially when he was one of the subjects, but at least it would broaden interest in hiring him as an intern.

Like clockwork, Ryoken pulls a folded piece of paper out of his breast pocket, his white suit looking way too good on him, bringing out the brightness of his hair. Yusaku wonders who dressed him, because he has a few words he’d like to exchange with them about public decency.

He takes it with nothing more than a scoff, skims it, and gives it back to him. “Did your dad write that?”

Ryoken winces. “Obviously.”

Yusaku would have a drink, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself here, of all places. Instead, he eats every salty treat that orbits his way and keeps an eye on Takeru, who’s still, somehow, saying hello. He really does know a lot of people.

“Is he—” Ryoken starts, nodding towards Takeru and giving Yusaku this _look_ that makes him scoff. “You seem awfully close.”

“He’s my roommate. And my friend,” Yusaku pauses long enough to wave back at him— he’s found Sugisaki Miyu now and he apparently knows her, because she allows him what Yusaku can only call a bear-hug. “He’s pretty cool.”

Ryoken makes a doubtful sound that makes Yusaku roll his eyes, and silence stretches between them. He’s glad when Ryoken breaks it.

“I was surprised to hear you’d come,” Ryoken mentions, his voice breezy, too casual. Small talk between them has never been a _thing,_ and Yusaku thinks it might be a bit too late in life to learn, but he allows Ryoken to continue all the same, not ready to settle into that old and familiar comfortable silence that surges up around them. “Five years ago you would have said no and come up with any excuse not to attend.”

Yusaku takes a deep breath, something pacing restlessly in his chest, the gnawing sensation that too much is different and too much is the same rearing its head. The words leave him before he can think better about it, before he can take his feelings at the end of the night into account.

“When Ai died,” he starts, swallows as subtly as he can and avoids Ryoken’s eyes, pretending not to notice the sudden tension of his shoulders. “When he died, a few months after you left, he wanted me to make a promise.”

Ryoken is as frozen as a statue by his side, and Yusaku wonders if he… well, if he knew. Ai’s death wasn’t newspaper worthy, Yusaku couldn’t afford an obituary, and the only ones that knew were the doctors, the funeral home and him. A few classmates went by, gave him their rather obligatory condolences, Shima almost sobbed himself into passing out.

Kusanagi-san—well. There was Jin to consider, and someone keeps leaving flowers on Ai’s grave. He never told him, so it’s anyone’s guess how he found out.

Yusaku must have kept his silence for too long, because Ryoken shifts, not awkwardly, not uncomfortably, but like he’s holding himself back from reaching out, from setting a hand on his shoulder, from holding him like he used to when Yusaku couldn’t handle the sight of Ai in the hospital bed and broke down as soon as he got home.

He continues talking, his voice barely above a whisper, but Ryoken doesn’t push. He waits, like he used to, and Yusaku’s chest hurts, because it’s been a while since someone _listened._ Since someone that _knew_ showed him anything other than pity and a twisted sense of pride at how he got into New Domino.

“I promised him I’d do my best to succeed,” Yusaku shakes his head, grins in a way that’s perhaps self-deprecating, and he notices the aborted twitch of Ryoken’s hand, as if he had forgotten, for a second, not only where they were, but what they aren’t. He keeps the rest of the promise to himself, not wanting to be so vulnerable right now. “So I’m doing just that.”

Ryoken takes a deep breath, and Yusaku dares to meet his eyes, and the subtle shadows of misery and mourning over his expression make the pain in his chest worse.

He didn’t know about it.

(And if Yusaku finds a set of flowers that are way too well-arranged in a vase that most definitely should not have been left in a public graveyard next time he finds time to visit Ai, he doesn’t mention it to anyone.)

**_I swear that the love you gave me was electric_ **

**_And I miss it more now every single day_ **

_The first time Yusaku asks Ryoken to jerk him off is, well—_

_It’s still summer and they probably have about a month, maybe two if Kiyoshi doesn’t make Ryoken stay in New Domino right away. He’s admittedly feeling desperate, since he can almost feel his life falling apart around him and there’s little he can do about it._

_He can’t cure Ai. He can’t pull more hours at work to make ends meet. He can’t keep Ryoken in Den City._

_He can, however, gasp in Ryoken’s ear and let all of that magnificent, electric light that he is burn him through. He can dig his nails in his back and, in those vulnerable moments only, beg him to stay through moans and whimpers. He can’t address it afterwards, and Ryoken doesn’t try to._

_Yusaku can see it, a wall of ice slowly making the always unexpected summer-red of Ryoken’s intensity fade, as if there wasn’t such a thing as autumn in between winter and summer. He’s helpless to break it down, much too broken already himself, if not quite in pieces. Ryoken has to sneak out now to meet him, since Kiyoshi found them on the beach after he unexpectedly came back way too soon from his business trip, and Ai’s noticed something off, but Yusaku can’t—_

_He can’t shake off the feeling that he’s already missing Ryoken, even as he has him on top of him, as they do their best to become one but never move_ further _._

_Perhaps_ _, Yusaku thinks, they’re both too shattered to give themselves that memory._

**_But why... why do I still remember_ **

**_Remember how we used to love... love to dream together_**

It becomes glaringly obvious that Ryoken’s getting laid about, say, a year after he first ran into him.

There were signs, and they were actually always there, but Yusaku didn’t notice them until his brain decided to remind him of how Ryoken looked now almost six years ago after getting his dick jerked off or blown. An unwelcome image, if only because at that moment Yusaku had been handling very dangerous, very hot tools while trying to make his Robotics project _not fall apart._

He can’t exactly explain what he and Ryoken are and aren’t. He’d asked for peace, a truce, whatever they wanted to call it, and Yusaku had accepted easily enough because he wants that as well, and maybe he needs someone that knew Ai in his life, maybe he needs someone that he can be honest with without having to give a full backstory to first. Takeru’s great, the best friend he’s ever had, and Shima keeps in contact and visits often enough but—

Yusaku’s lonely, is all. Despite having something good, something safe, a paid internship program already guaranteed, friends that care, he feels like he’s abandoned himself, and the idea of that is scary, because if he abandons himself he’s abandoning Ai.

And he can’t afford that. More than he can’t afford his own apartment, or to splurge on a whim, or to fail a class. He can’t abandon Ai as well.

Realizing that Ryoken’s… physically moved on, to say the least, makes something uncomfortable stir in his chest, because he hasn’t been able to do so, and not for lack of trying. Takeru’s introduced him to many girls and boys willing for a one-night-stand several times, and Yusaku’s never been able to…

He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with him, physically or psychologically, not at all. His research says that this is normal, has a name even, and he personally doesn’t think it bad at all that physical desire might only appear after a good amount of sentimental attachment. Of which Yusaku hasn’t been able to in a romantic way since Ryoken. There’s little he can add to that, really and it’s not like he isn’t _horny—_

“You’re going to burn yourself,” Ryoken says, scaring the shit out of Yusaku, but despite his heart running away from his chest Yusaku doesn’t actually burn himself after the scare, and instead drops the tool he was using to the ground. Which isn’t exactly better considering his feet are there, but it’s _something._ He throws a vicious glare at Ryoken, who winces. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Yusaku shrugs, which is code for _‘fuck you’_ in their language. This is a new development, somehow, because they never really _had_ a language beyond looks, but it happened over the last six months, which is when they actually started hanging out. It was awful. “What are you doing here?”

“I was around,” Ryoken follows him closely with his eyes as Yusaku starts picking up, because Ryoken’s interruption made him realize how late it was. He exceeded the time limit for students to work in the lab by two hours, but his teacher likes him, so at least Yusaku knows he won’t be getting in trouble for it. “What are you doing after this?”

“Sleeping the whole weekend,” Yusaku answers, because it’s truth, and Ryoken doesn’t snort, which means he believes him. “I arranged my schedule around that. All my assignments are done.”

_Except for this fucking robot,_ he thinks, but Roboppi won’t be ready for a long while. He’s right on schedule with them, as far as development goes.

“You seem…” Ryoken pauses, looks him over, and raises an eyebrow. It must be a real issue, how he looks, because Ryoken is rarely this open about Yusaku’s constant state of exhaustion and disheveled. “Well, you seem like you need a drink. And, frankly, a good fuck.”

_Oh no._

“Alright, I’m using the safe word—”

“What? But—”

“Stardust Road.”

Ryoken quietens, lip corners curling downwards, but at least he isn’t frowning like last time he used it. They have safe words, for when the other one is getting way too close, and way too personal, for the progress they have made, each one tailored to specific topics that they should both remember clearly. Yusaku uses them the most, because he’s as allergic to feelings now as Ryoken is, apparently, but the use of this one is… half wrong. Stardust Road usually comes up when Ryoken’s dad gets mentioned, but Yusaku wasn’t thinking clearly, and he has quite the nice, vivid memory of a blowjob on the beach.

He is right, though. Yusaku needs a good fuck, and having Ryoken around when he’s horny doesn’t bode well. He’s going to have to ask him to leave him for the weekend. Takeru was out, visiting his hometown, so Yusaku would be alone, which is ideal.

“I wanted you to come with me to this party,” Ryoken says, a little hesitantly, probably because he can already see the big ‘ _no_ ’ painting on Yusaku’s forehead. “It shouldn’t be too packed, and there’ll be drinks—”

“Sure,” Yusaku shrugs, pauses where he stands, looks towards Ryoken to exchange an incredulous look with him, and then sighs, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. Fuck. “Well. I do need a fucking drink.”

Ryoken’s grin is nothing short of dangerous.

**_You always were... red flavor, baby_ **

**_So red hot, made me melt like the summer sun, yeah_ **

**_At a candy shop, still dreaming, honey_ **

**_Forever lost in a summer I can’t forget, yet_**

Yusaku isn’t sure how he ended up in Ryoken’s dorm, on his bed, under him, with one hand down his pants, but—he does remember rather enthusiastically kissing Ryoken after some party game went to rather raunchy places, and he wasn’t even _that_ tipsy when that happened. Ryoken, as far as Yusaku’s now further inebriated mind can tell, is _barely_ tipsy, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about consent issues.

They both kind of fell into this, he can tell, but further critical thinking is shoved out of his brain as Ryoken’s hips grind down and really, Yusaku ought to take off his pants, but he can’t bother.

It’s different now.

There’s a practiced knowledge to Ryoken’s hands and his mouth and his fingers and his tongue that speaks of experience; with other lovers, with him. Experience Yusaku never had, and he’s left shaking within minutes, probably was before they even fell into bed, and he might be a bit jealous that Ryoken was able to move on in regards to this far better than Yusaku was, jealous of the lovers he’s had, but _fuck_ is he glad he learned that twisty thing he does because Yusaku’s never come so hard in his entire life, he’s absolutely sure of that.

He would _remember_ if he had.

He sucks Ryoken off with too much enthusiasm for someone who didn’t want to listen to him say the word _‘sex’_ not a few hours ago, before the party, but he couldn’t give a shit right now, because he’s missed this, so much, it leaves him breathless after they’re done, it lingers over his skin, makes him shiver with so much remaining want that it snaps him back into a decent state of sobriety to know that this is—

“Fuck,” Ryoken snaps, breathy and deep and as frustrated as a man who just came down his lover’s throat can be, probably thinking along the same lines as he is.

It’s bad.

**_I found myself reaching out again_ **

**_But you have long left that place I remain_ **

**_My icy heart has since melted away_**

What follows is a rather familiar turn of events.

Ryoken stops talking to him, for about two weeks, because that’s what he does when Yusaku makes him feel things he’s perhaps not ready to accept. Yusaku doesn’t push him because he’s honestly just as lost. The ice wall makes a comeback and Yusaku feels resentful about it for about a week before he realizes that the wall he hates so much is only Ryoken’s defense mechanism for when he’s…

Too in love for his own good, is Yusaku’s guess. Too in love for his father to like it and too in love for him not to be scared.

Six years ago, Yusaku saw the ice wall and thought it his end, but there was too much going on at the time. There was Ai getting worse instead of better, there was Kusanagi-san being too terrified of losing Jin to care that extra bit that would have helped a lot. There was Ryoken’s graduation looming and New Domino representatives breathing down his neck. It was too much for Yusaku to notice that he isn’t supposed to break down the ice wall and force his way in.

He’s supposed to melt it, and he can tell that will not be an easy feat. That it might take time to truly make it so they’re good again, but if he could only reach out...

He wonders if Ryoken saw the same wall from his side of the equation. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did, because Yusaku knows denial and self-isolation too well, and knows that it’s hard to get words out of him at times.

But.

Yusaku hasn’t felt the need for a wall over the last few months. Rather, he’s been trying to let Ryoken in, at his own pace, hence the safe word system, but that night, that fluke—it was unbalancing, and running away to spend the weekend at Shima’s in Den City in order to be able to visit Ai probably didn’t help the whole _‘learning to open up to each other’_ thing, never mind that they haven’t been talking at all.

He realizes this on the train back to New Domino, but at least he realized. He didn’t when Ryoken left, but it was hard when he felt like he was being pushed away, torn from Ryoken’s life in an almost surgical manner.

His decision to call Ryoken is one he regrets almost immediately, but he was expecting no response, not—

“I can’t, Fujiki,” he’s saying, and Yusaku’s locked in the bathroom, because he can’t have this conversation in public. “I can’t do this again. I’ve tried to forget and I’d thought I’d be happy being your friend—”

“We’ll never be satisfied like that, Ryoken,” Yusaku breathes out, closing his eyes, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You know this. How we feel. We—”

“I _left,_ Fujiki. I abandoned you. And you never told me about—” Here, he takes a deep breath, and Yusaku can picture him shaking his head, giving up, as the thought of Ai hangs over them, like a motherly ghost. Yusaku has to hold back tears at it because this is not how things are supposed to go, he _knows_ this and if he’s going to keep his promise to Ai and _be happy_ then he’s going to fight tooth and nail for it. “You went through that alone—”

“And maybe that’s how it was supposed to be, Ryoken. Do you—” Yusaku takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “Do you think we would love this deeply if we hadn't found each other again? It wasn’t like this before. You know it. We wouldn’t have.”

Ryoken’s silence, this time, is telling: he’s terrified.

“A few months can do a lot to give back faith, can’t they?” 

**_All I want's for you to say..._ **

**_Do you feel me, here?_ **

**_Do you feel me, here?_ **

**_"You’re the same color"_**

The phone call ends not-badly, but not well either. A middle point, a grey area, appeared, and Ryoken eventually had to hang up because he has other responsibilities now, things made up of dreams, of dreams he shared with him long ago and even recently, so Yusaku doesn’t keep him from that, he never could.

What he does, once he gets to the train station, is bolt.

There’s a least an hour from the station to the university’s campus, and Ryoken’s dorm is ridiculously far away from the drop off point of the taxis because of how fucking _exclusive_ this university can be, but thankfully he doesn’t have to run there because Ryoken is, very, very conveniently, in the building where the Robotics lab is located, because he was going to tutor someone in math there, and their time should be up by now.

He must look like a crazed heathen, just off a four hours long train ride and an hour-long cab ride, but he gives no shits whatsoever about it.

Yusaku reaches the building in time to watch Sugisaki Miyu leave, and she shoots Yusaku a charming, knowing smile, wishes him good luck and, really, he ought to ask Ryoken if they’re actually friends, because she’s _everywhere._

Yusaku reaches the classroom and, in a moment of mild panic when he sees Ryoken picking up, locks the door from the outside like only he and his Robotics professor know how to do, and Ryoken doesn’t turn towards it until he hears the loud, oppressing ‘click!’ of it.

They stare each other down, Ryoken’s eyes wide with surprise, his mouth a little open because of course he dropped his perfectly sculpted jaw open, and Yusaku takes a moment to _drink him in._

His hair’s grown almost back to the length Yusaku was used to seeing, still a little bit longer on the top than on the sides, but that was just an indication that he needed a haircut to bring the look together. There’s a hint of purple there, peeking, and while Yusaku knows Ryoken would probably prefer to cut it up, he can’t help but wanting to run his fingers over it, like he used to, to soothe that particular pain.

Yusaku hasn’t exactly failed to notice how sharp he is now, standing six foot and then some tall, his body solid with lean muscles from swimming, his skin tanned so perfectly that Yusaku knows there must not be a tan line anywhere on him. He’s more freckled now than he was six years ago, the consequence of having been in a sunny place for a long, long time, longer than he did, at home, and they look like scatters of stardust over his skin.

It hurts to look at him, it really does. The only thing that remains the same are the eyes, still so almost inhumanly pale, still in need of sunglasses because he’s sensitive, still so deep in a contradicting way that Yusaku just wishes to drown. He’s never met anyone with pale or blue eyes that have been quite so beautiful apart from Ryoken, and by now he doesn’t even care if there’s a bias somewhere or not.

“Yusaku,” Ryoken speaks up, finally, after a long round of staring, and his voice comes out in a whisper around his name, it leaving his lips for the first time in six years and _oh, Yusaku’s missed him so much, how did he live without it?_ “What are you—?”

“I love you.”

**_So help fill in missing pieces all over again!_**

They never said it before, not really. They couldn’t spare the words as teenagers and they couldn’t be adults enough to admit it over the last year and Yusaku thinks of how utterly ridiculous it is for this man, for them, to have implied it so much, so strongly, then and now and never said it.

_Words make it real,_ he thinks, but Yusaku’s quite tired of living a memory, a fantasy. He isn’t the type to believe in soulmates, in destiny, in fate, in kismet, not on any shape or form, but—

“I believe in us.” Yusaku closes his eyes leans back against the door, knowing he has the key in his pocket but not wanting to use it, not ever, not if Ryoken’s face isn’t going to be what he hopes when he opens his eyes. “Ryoken, please, understand—”

Hurried steps, body heat that isn’t his own enveloping him, lips against his own—

**_You always were... red flavor, baby_ **

**_So red hot, made me melt like the summer sun, yeah_**

It’s like watching autumn leaves falling into place like the pieces to a perfect puzzle, like coming home after a long, hard winter, a lonely Christmas, like the first blossoms of spring and, _fuck_ — it’s like summer heat, red and yellow and shining and demanding attention, demanding the comforts of clear blue water, demanding the comforts of staying inside or maybe demanding you burn under the intensity of it because, really what else is there to do?

Yusaku’s gasping when Ryoken breaks away from the kiss, and the eye contact is electric. Yusaku could never hope to replicate that look, that feeling, that intensity, the sheer amount of life behind it, into one of his projects, but he will damn well try, because he doesn’t think he could live without this.

Without _breathing._

“I love you,” Ryoken repeats, desperately, and something loosens, a knot that’s been resting inside his chest from too long, and Yusaku thinks that perhaps it’s his heart starting back up again because part of him always thought that two-thirds of it died with Ai, and the remains of them were long taken by Ryoken by then.

**_At a candy shop, still dreaming, honey_ **

**_Forever lost in a summer I can’t forget, yet_**

“You have me,” Yusaku presses a kiss against his lips, his chin, his jaw, because he hears the panic of Ryoken’s own heart coming alive under his hands, and a man like him, wound up so tight since the day he was born—if Yusaku was shattering and coming back together, Ryoken was being reborn. “You hear me? You have me. I’m here. Don’t you dare leave again and I better not dare let you do it, because then we’ll be truly fucked.”

Ryoken’s laugh is wet, helpless, delicate and Yusaku wants to bottle it up because it hurts, it hurts in the sense that there’s so many undertones: disbelief, relief, love, happiness, fear, lust, longing, love, love, love, and how is he supposed to cope with having that for himself if not through hearing it every single day?

He plans to. Fuck, he plans to.

“If I leave,” Ryoken starts, shaking his head as if he’s afraid this is a good, good dream. Or a bad one, because Yusaku would be torn apart if his subconscious gave him this and them he had to wake up to another reality. “If I leave—you’ll hunt me down, yeah? Knock some sense into me. Tell me to remember the summer.”

And Yusaku rolls his eyes, perhaps lets out a sob, but nods, nods again, leans in to kiss—

“Summer it is, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I Tried lol.
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed it! consider leaving a comment, telling me what you thought, maybe just leave a peach emoji, that'd be nice. kudos button don't bite. but thanks for making it this far! 💕❤


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